


Cut the Bonds with The Moon

by theasexualfangirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Depression, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, No SQUIP, Pining, Vampire Chloe, Werewolf Michael, additional tags that will lead to spoilers aren't added for obvious reasons, and fuckloads of it, demigoddess jenna, dragon rich, incubus jake, nymph christine, siren brooke, slight references to pinkberry, this is a good christian squip-free home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-01 11:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theasexualfangirl/pseuds/theasexualfangirl
Summary: In a world of humans, monsters, and children of mythological figures, Jeremy is the most average being you will ever meet. All his life, he's been told that he would amount to nothing. Fate has different plans for him, though.





	1. Kanonikós

\----

_"The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to." - Carl Sandburg_

\----

Somewhere stored in the wildest dreams of a grade school boy confined to his ADHD-induced imagination, there lies a world of heroes and villains, monsters and spirits, myths and fiction. This world is a place where anybody could be anything and everyone could follow their own rules. It wouldn't matter how strong you were if everyone were a hero. It wouldn't matter how beautiful you looked if everyone were a monster. Everything would be real, in iridescent technicolor and vividly dancing before your very eyes. In this world, the hero gets the girl, the monster embraces itself, and the myths remove themselves from every storybook. Everything in this world... is perfect.

This world is not where we are now.

\----

"Watch where you're going, _normie!_ "

Jeremy rolled his eyes as he continued through the halls, disregarding the scaly beast of a quarterback (or whatever the fuck he was on the football field) that rammed into his shoulder. He secured the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. His eyes innocently scanned the hallway packed with students running rampant to get to their next class before the five-minute passing period was up. He accidentally locked eyes with some girl with massive, spiraling horns and piercing green eyes. She didn't seem amused.

_Fuck- eyes back down, eyes back down._

Despite constantly making painfully awkward eye contact with some random and usually threatening student every day, Jeremy had to remind himself to avoid any and all unintentional staring by keeping his eyes glued downward. This hardly lasted long.

_Wham!_ A locker slammed shut. 

"Don't interrupt her, Jenna!"

Jeremy cut his eyes upward, keeping his head down, to see the three most popular girls in school- practically the Plastics of Middleborough. Chloe, who was having her makeup done by Brooke, was the hottest vampire for miles. She looked like she was ripped out of a scene from Twilight. Her near-white skin always had a blueish glow, making her dark cherry lipstick pop. The aforementioned Brooke always helped her acquire this look since the whole 'no reflection' thing was a major setback. Brooke was Chloe's little bottle blonde sidekick, easily seducing boys into make them compliment Chloe's appearance. Not that she really needed to, but being a siren was always an advantage when she just couldn't properly overdraw Chloe's lips that day. The third girl was Jenna Rolan. On the outside, she was just another human, but what was in her blood made her mythical. She was the daughter of the messenger god, Hermes, giving her the key to the demigod and demigoddess cliques around the school. Her father being who he was, Jenna was a natural born gossip and would go to lengths just to get a juicy story circulating.

"Brooke is trying to get a straight line on this wing and she can't have you-"

"Talking about some dirt I got on Madeline?" Jenna finished Chloe's sentence.

Chloe pursed her lips and tossed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder. For some reason, she was always obsessed with this succubus girl Madeline.

"We can multitask," she decided, snapping her fingers and tilting her head back down so Brooke could finish her handiwork.

Jeremy continued on, lowering his attention back down to the tile floors of the hallway. He didn't necessarily need to look up to know where he was going. He's had a route planned and practiced since the beginning of the year. His fourth period was his a class on Greek history and mythology, taught by the actual Muse of history Clio (though she preferred being called Kyría... 'Madame' in English). It was odd for one of the legendary gods to be separated from the far reaches of Olympus, but something had drawn Clio to suburban New Jersey.

What was it? _Nobody had any fucking clue._

Everybody really accepted the fact that Kyría was just another teacher. They had to turn in last minute essays to her and sit through an hour of her barely understandable accent drawling through PowerPoint notes. Just another teacher. Except she was extremely attached to Jeremy for some reason. The first time that he walked through the door of her classroom, she spat out a few things in Greek and scrambled for her flip phone (yes, her flip phone). Jeremy didn't think anything of it until attendance.

"Goranski?"

"Here."

"Hart?"

"Here."

"Heere?"

"Present."

A few people in the class snickered and snorted. Typical procedure. Until Kyría plastered a smile on her face.

"I know you are, Jeremy," she mumbled to herself. Except it wasn't to herself. Literally everyone in the class heard. More laughter erupted, mostly from that half-dragon douchebag Rich. From that day on, everybody thought that the teacher was...

 _Eugh._ Forget that.

Jeremy dealt with it, and somewhat didn't mind the fact that his teacher placed him on some sort of pedestal. He would get curves on his grades for no reason and sympathy for all the taunting from his classmates.

"Don't worry about them, yiós," she would say after class. "I promise you have nothing to worry about. I just know someone that's told me lots about you. Great things."

It was a little creepy, needless to say. But having an actual Muse say that you'll do incredible things was surprisingly good for your self-esteem. The weirdest thing about the whole situation with her, however, was the fact that she told Jeremy that she _knew_ someone that told her about him. What was she hiding? Why the fuck did she have so many things to hide? Jeremy wouldn't ask her. It felt like some forbidden topic. He felt uneasy just thinking about the potential world hidden away from him that was somehow potentially linked to an actual god or goddess.

The one-minute bell rang, resulting in a few students previously chatting away with their circle of friends dashing off in all directions to their next class. Jeremy quickened his pace a bit, his strides lengthening. He pushed a part of his unruly, curly bangs out of one of his eyes as he hurried on.

\----

_Crumple. Crumple. Pap._

"Hah! Score!"

Jeremy sighed, not caring enough to turn his attention to the ball of paper that was just hurled into the back of his head nor the source of said ball of paper. He knew from that snide voice it was Rich. Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his focus on whatever topic Kyría was lecturing on. He scribbled down a few sentences off of the PowerPoint on the screen before hearing a snake-like voice whisper-shout in his direction.

"You wanna take a look at that, normie?"

Jeremy deeply inhaled before narrowing his eyes and turning over his left shoulder, hair falling in front of his left eye again, to see Rich leaning over his desk, leering at him. His expression smug; lips pulled into a filthy smirk, eyes amused and malevolent. Jeremy's attention was pulled to his right half, covered in maroon scales, eye bright green and slitted. Jeremy huffed and turned away, mostly scared of getting caught staring at Rich's inhuman half.

"C'mooon, _sapie_ , what're you expecting? A love letter?"

Even though Rich was half-human himself, Jeremy was constantly degraded for being entirely human; the textbook definition generic and unimpressive. Creatures and humans were supposed to live in harmony, but not in high school. Never in high school. Though all the tough monsters, resembling the Hulk or some terrifying lizard, pushed Jeremy around, Rich was his main (designated?) tormentor. He was constantly at Jeremy's heels ready to pounce with some unoriginal nickname that Jeremy had heard millions of times before. Maybe not millions, but it sure as hell felt like it. He wasn't any less for not being some beast or heroic figure. He couldn't understand why Rich wouldn't leave him alone.

"Cuz if you are, you know you aren't really my type, man," Rich's voice cut through Jeremy's absent thoughts. "Plus, I don't think Jakey D would be too pleased to hear I'm slammin' some beanpole like you."

Rich _always_ had to bring up his boyfriend. As a self-proclaimed 'bicon' dating the captain of literally every sports team known to man and monster, Rich almost used his incubus lover as fuel for his taunts. Though Jeremy didn't really have as many run-ins with Jake, he seemed like the kind of guy that didn't exactly support what Rich was doing, but he didn't stop it either. He was what all the cheesy, PTA-endorsed anti-bullying movements called a bystander. Jeremy learned to ignore both of them, but it was getting increasingly difficult their junior year. Maybe it was Rich's confidence in finally being an upperclassman or finally hitting his growth spurt (...or at least starting it), but Rich was getting creative. He was being consistent and pushing farther than he did before. 

Jeremy leaned down and picked up the carelessly crushed up piece of wide-ruled notebook paper and made eye contact with Rich, whose sly smile only grew, before shoving it directly into his overfilled backpack.

"Booooo!" Rich said, a bit too loudly to be a whisper.

"Richard," Kyría paused her lesson. "Please pay attention. This will be on the quiz next week."

Rich sat back in his seat, poking is snake-like tongue out at Jeremy before picking his pencil back up and drumming it against his desk. Jeremy rolled his eyes and focused back on his sloppily handwritten notes. He had missed at least one slide of notes during his little exchange with Rich, and he only hoped that he could find the notes online. 

\----

The lunch bell rang, cuing all of the students in Kryía's class to flood out of her door.

"Remember to study your notes before next Wednesday and," she started. "Take the online quizzes!" She had to shout out the last part, as if she could reach the students that had already made their way out into the hallway. Jeremy, as always, stayed back to gather his scattered pieces of notebook paper and folders, shoving them back into his impossibly tightly packed bag.

"Jeremy," Kyría piped up, almost asking a question. "Would you mind telling me when your birthday is?"

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at stared at her for a moment.

"Uhh. N-Not at all, uhm," he stammered. "Next month, actually. The nineteenth."

"Indeed," she said with a smile after a few moments of hesitation. "The big one-eight, yes?"

"...Uh-huh," Jeremy uttered, mouth agape. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and started walking out the door. Kyría began shuffling some papers.

"All I can tell you, yiós," she stated. "Is that you should be on the look out."

Jeremy nodded simply, but his head was reeling.

 _What?!_ On the look out for _what?_

He pushed open the door and hung a left going following the rest of the school towards the cafeteria. Or at least... the doors leading out of the cafeteria and into the parking lot to drive off campus. Jeremy attempted letting his mind wander, but he couldn't stop thinking. What would he have to look out for? Zeus himself killing him instantly with a lightning bolt?!

"Jeremy!"

He stopped, head whipping around to meet the source of the voice, and backed up against the lockers. 

Enter: Michael Mell. He had been Jeremy's only real friend for nearly as long as he could remember, and they made the absolute oddest pair. When they met as kids, they actually started talking only because Jeremy couldn't stop staring at Michael. He was the first real-life werewolf he ever saw, and since Michael was so young he couldn't fully control his abilities of transforming. He typically looked like some wolverine as opposed to his majorly human exterior that he frequently preferred today. Michael back in elementary school would bear his tiny, but still more prominent than average, canine teeth and innocently scan the classroom with his doe-like golden eyes. The major thing that hadn't changed was his untamable, yet somehow sleek, black hair that he was always running his fingers through. It was sort of a charming nervous tic that never went away. When Michael finally noticed Jeremy staring one day, he simply met his stare and cocked his head to one side, a curious and kindhearted look on his face.

"Dude, we're going off campus today," Michael stated, maneuvering through the hall of slow-walking teenagers. "There's this burger joint my dealer told me about and it's this total hole-in-the-wall where everything is, like, set on fire right in front of you!"

"...Rad?" Jeremy lifted an eyebrow.

"We're totally going," Michael determines. 

He throws his arm over Jeremy's shoulder, pulling him in as they continue walking. Michael was generally bigger than Jeremy. For starters he had about two inches on Jeremy, something Michael playfully teased him about. Jeremy was also much skinnier than the other boy, consistently getting called a twink by, again, Michael, but it wasn't unusual for the lanky human to be smaller than anyone. Michael, on the other hand, still had a bit of 'puppy' weight in his face and around his middle, but was majorly toned muscle. He had broad shoulders and insanely strong legs that benefited him when he transformed. He was quite an intimidating-looking guy in his human form, but Jeremy knew that he was really a big softie with a thing for 90's music and iron-on patches. He _could_ be intimidating when he wanted to be, but his dorky smile and gentle eyes were present most of the time. Especially around Jeremy.

"Fine, but if you eat anything that's literally bleeding again, I'm filing for a divorce," Jeremy teased. He immediately back pedaled. "No homo."

"It's homo just because I'm in the conversation, dude," Michael fired back. "But, sure, anything to keep our marriage in tact."

Jeremy pulled out of Michael's grip and playfully punched him in the chest. He secured one of his backpack straps back over his shoulder and kept walking alongside Michael, who was working on sorting his car key out of his numerous keychains. Jeremy was about to go through the standard hallway procedure of keeping his eyes down towards the ground, but a certain glittering figure caught his attention.

Enter: Christine Canigula. God, was she something special. By no means was she popular or a stereotypical hot girl like Chloe; she didn't have high cheekbones or boldly shaped eyebrows or a stunning hourglass figure. She was just Christine. She was a water nymph, and one of the most beautiful creatures Jeremy had laid eyes on. Her eyes were brown, but had speckles of silver and blue radiating from the center of her irises that seemed to catch light. Her lips were always glossy, maybe thanks to her chapstick addiction, and tinted a light teal. Ever-present glitter shone on her soft skin, which Jeremy knew was soft from accidentally bumping into her in the hallway once. It had to have taken hours for Jeremy's heart rate to slow down to normal after that. He kept telling Michael that he needed actual medical attention, and that he would have to drag Jeremy's paralyzed, lovestruck body to the nurse.

Jeremy's eyes were intently locked on Christine as she practically floated through the hallway, short, blueish-black hair flowing behind her. She was staring up at the ceiling, mouth active, hands folding and unfolding. She seemed so... _focused_. She had to be reviewing lines or a monologue of some sort. Jeremy could never quite place it, but her passion for everything that she did was one of the most beautiful parts about her. For the life of him, Jeremy couldn't avert his eyes. He was absolutely enamored.

_Snap!_

"Earth to Jeremy!"

Jeremy whipped his head back forward, eyes wide. Michael sighed.

"Don't tell me," he rolled his eyes. "Christine?"

"Uahh...ehh... Y-Yeh-uhhh..."

"Fuck's sake, Jeremy," Michael grumbled. "You know what I'm gonna say."

"What, that thing you still haven't told me how to spell so I can translate it?"

"Pag may tiyaga, may nilaga," Michael stated smoothly, nodding his head.

"Promise me you'll actually tell me what that means someday," Jeremy sighed.

"Just some little saying that I've found myself needing to follow lately," Michael shrugged, glancing over to Jeremy. He placed a hand on the latter's shoulder, noting his defeated expression. "Alright, fine. It basically means that if you work hard for something, it’ll pay off in the end."

Jeremy turned over his shoulder to glance back at Christine, who had already made her way to one of the lunch tables. He sighed as the pair walked farther away from her.

"You know I want to be with her."

"And it'll be worth it if you actually talk to her for once, dude!"

"Y'know what? That's something we'll worry about later," Jeremy suggested, nudging Michael's side. "We should get going while the traffic isn't bad, yeah?"

"Mmhm," Michael mumbled. He always had a way of sensing when something was up with Jeremy. He blew it off. Just the way he usually did. It was fine... Just Jeremy being Jeremy.


	2. Mátia

\----

_"The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon." - Jean Ingelow_

\----

"If I weren't such a boring human all this wouldn't have to-"

"Jeremy, I _will_ turn this fucking car around," Michael threatened. "You are not a boring human. You're, like, the coolest human I know."

"Thanks," Jeremy grumbled.

"I'm serious. Rich is just a dick, and he knows it," Michael reassured. "Something about seeing you suffer gets him off."

Jeremy sunk down in the passenger's seat of Michael's car, shoulders tensing. He didn't say anything for a while, and neither did Michael. Jeremy just sat and stared out the window at the passing cars while Michael silently drove, letting the sounds of some old Radiohead album fill the air. Michael couldn't help but glance over at Jeremy every so often. Speaking as someone who knew Jeremy for years, Michael saw that this boy was a fragile mass of insecurity. He was made of amber, delicate and beautiful, but could crack under hardly any pressure. His heart was trapped in its golden, protective barrier, due to break at any time. He was a ticking time bomb. Unpredictable. Jeremy was one of the most ambitious people Michael ever knew, and he worried that Jeremy's ambition would lead to something far worse than Michael could comprehend. He just wanted to keep Jeremy safe for as long as he could. He didn't want to let him hurt anymore. _God_ , if only he knew how.

Michael approached a red light and took an opportunity to take in the lithe, drooping figure next to him. Jeremy always looked lost. Something about gazing into his tired eyes made you feel homesick, even if you were sitting in your own bedroom. Jeremy Heere, perpetually depressed and constantly daydreaming, was looking for something. He made you want to help him find it even if he didn't ask you to, whether or not you knew what he was trying to find.

“Jeremy,” Michael eventually got the courage to say.

“Hm?” Jeremy responded, not turning away from the window.

Michael quickly snatched up his phone and paused the album. He shifted his body towards Jeremy and rested his elbow on the console between them. Jeremy cut his eyes forward to look out the windshield.

“Dude, I kn-“

“It’s green,” Jeremy mumbled monotonously.

Michael looked forward to see the cars in front of him moving. He turned his attention back to the steering wheel and let up on the breaks. He stole a few more glances at Jeremy, who had returned his focus back to the window next to him. He took in every single part of Jeremy. From his unusually mussed hair to his even more so unusually relaxed shoulders, Jeremy looked defeated. He had lost a battle with some malevolent entity that had tormented him for too long. This was more than just some high school bully. Michael knew Jeremy more than anybody else in the world did. The boy typically had a melancholy air about him, but it screamed out in desperation today. He was radiating a silent, invisible SOS call. Michael sighed. He couldn't stand Jeremy's silence any longer.

“I know Rich doesn’t get to you this much,” he stated. “Something else is bugging you, right?”

Jeremy said nothing. He shrunk down further, tucking his chin down to his chest. He wanted to disappear right there and then. He didn't care if he was human or not at the moment. He just wanted the ability to sink into the core of the earth. He wanted to avoid every daunting question the universe had for him. He didn't want to think. _He didn't want to think._

“You’re thinking about her again,” Michael answered for him.

Jeremy sighed and buried his face in his hands, then ran them up through his hair. This ‘her’ Michael was referring to wasn’t Christine. This thinking wasn't fanciful or driven by adoration and fascination. It was a looming void filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

“Fifteen fucking years, Michael.”

“Today?”

“...Later this week,” Jeremy muttered, shaking his head. He sounded like he was going to burst. "What does it really matter, though?"

This was a topic Jeremy hardly spoke to anyone about, including his dad. Nobody ever liked bringing up Jeremy's mom or what happened to her. Jeremy had too many theories as to why she had mysteriously disappeared when he was only three years old. He never knew what kind of person he painted her as. Sometimes she was a selfish witch that had something so important to do that she left behind her small child and the man that relied on and loved her so much. Other times she was just an enigma; an echo that gracefully wrapped its hands around Jeremy's head and dissolved into stardust, washing away into the night air. He hardly knew anything about his mom. Most of the stories that he knew about her came from his dad. All Jeremy could actually remember was her childlike, exaggerated smiles that took up her entire face and a curtain of platinum blonde hair. He remembers the feeling of a soft, satin nightgown she would wear when coming into his room late at night when he still had the light on at 8:00. Then... her _eyes_. Jeremy definitely got his eyes from her. But hers were like ice; cool and comforting like a freshly fallen blanket of snow. They radiated a calming blue, though, just as Jeremy's did. For whatever reason, however, she despised cameras, so there was hardly any photographic evidence of her existence. The only faded pictures of her were stored in the minds of Jeremy and his dad.

“Hey,” Michael said, his voice cutting through Jeremy’s absentminded reminiscing. “If you want me to do anything for you just let me know, okay?”

Jeremy nodded.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “I know I’ve dragged you into this for, what, as long as we’ve been friends?”

“You don’t _drag_ me into anything, Jeremy,” Michael stated. “It’s hard for you and I get it. You have a reason to be upset about it.”

“Yeah, but for how much longer?”

“What?”

“How much longer will I get to use my mom as an excuse for being a clingy asshole all the time?”

“Okay,” Michael sighed. “Listen. This isn’t an excuse. You’re feeling alone and shit because you never really got to know her and it’s reasonable. You take as much time to have as many emotions as you damn well please, and if anybody’s got a problem with it I’m fine with throwin’ hands!”

Jeremy let out a quiet laugh. It sounded hopeless and pathetic, but it was still a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Jeremy mumbled. “I’m acting like an idiot.”

“Again, I’m not fucking afraid to turn this car around,” Michael said. Jeremy nudged him in the shoulder.

“I don’t need you abandoning me, too.”

Michael only sighed and shot Jeremy a concerned glance.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy laughed. Michael really had lightened up the situation a bit, and it felt good. But Jeremy still couldn’t tear his mind away from the mother he barely knew.

“You know she probably had her reasons,” Michael sighed after a while.

“Reasons more important than her three-year-old and her husband,” Jeremy mumbled.

“Hey!”

“Look, if we were so important to her, clearly she wouldn’t have left,” Jeremy’s tone grew desperate. “So why should I believe we actually meant something to her? How _I_ meant something to her?”

“Jeremy.”

“I was fucking three. How was I supposed to know she didn’t care? How was I supposed to tell that she was going to leave? How did I know she even wanted me? Dad loved her so much, and he still does. I know he does! Then who’s to say that when I came along everything changed? What if this entire thing was because of some _kid_ that wasn’t even supposed to be alive, and-“

“Jeremy.”

“ _All_ of this is my fault and even now I’m still making everything about me, and they were so in love. They were so in love, there’s no way she would have left if it weren’t for me! I shouldn't even be upset about this, _I_ caused this!"

He heaved in the air he didn’t know he was depriving himself of. He squinted away the tears he didn’t even know were about to run down his face. _Fuck. Great time to have a breakdown._ He ran his hands through his hair and noticed Michael getting into a turn lane. Jeremy pressed his thumb into the corner of his eye to banish the ungrateful tear waiting to fall onto his cheek. He doubled over, hands sliding to cover up his face as he rested on his elbows. He breathed in heavily and tried to swallow down the panic attack that was gradually consuming him.

"Michael," he choked out.

"Just breathe," Michael ordered calmly.

"Michael, I'm fine. I don't need you to-" Jeremy spoke frantically, but then cut himself off. He squinted his eyes hard and felt his breath hitch. He heard Michael shift the car into park and fall back into his leather seat. Then the air in the car was silent. Every sound fell into nothingness. Only static and passing cars were faintly heard from beyond the cramped interior of the busted up PT Cruiser. Jeremy tried maintaining this silence for as long as he could, choking on every breath that he couldn't hold and letting silent tears stream remorsefully down his face. His entire body shook, every inch of himself working to keep quiet.

"W-We're gonna be late," he faltered.

"We're not," Michael stated calmly. "All you need to do is get this out of your system. You're okay."

"Something is-isn't right," Jeremy sputtered. "I know something about h-her isn't right."

Michael only sighed and shook his head. Jeremy lifted his head back up, face splotchy and red. He took in a deep, shaky breath and Michael placed a reassuring hand on Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy pressed his lips into a line and wiped away at the streaks of bitter tears covering his cheeks. He shook his head pitifully, knowing that his eyes were glossed over and red, eyelashes wet and stuck to each other. He blinked a few times before feeling the harsh sting of tears return to his eyes.

"Fuck," he hissed.

He dropped his head and tried to prevent anything else from streaming from his eyes again by slapping his hands over his face. Jeremy felt Michael's hand leave his shoulder, then a gentle tugging at his left hand- an attempt to pry it away from his face. He understood and gave in, grabbing onto Michael's hand like a lifeline, and letting his sobs become vocal and messy. Jeremy at least felt safe here.

...

Michael had helped Jeremy through enough hard times to understand his thought process. He tended to bottle everything up until one thing led to another and he was suddenly spiraling out of control, every thought being a segue to the next seemingly unrelated worry. Soon enough he would have to explode. _He was a ticking time bomb. Unpredictable._

Sure, both boys had their fair share of anxieties and worries (what teenager doesn't?), but Michael's anxiety was related to more social interactions and less of an issue when it came to the stuff Jeremy worried about. Jeremy was the kind of guy that became panicked over the littlest things, and a lot of the time it led to some scary-as-shit panic attacks. After that, Jeremy would worry about who saw him having said panic attack and begin worrying about that. It was a vicious cycle. 

The thing about Michael and Jeremy's friendship that made them special was how much they relied on each other... and how much they cared for each other. Most of the guys their age at Middleborough would only have some kind of bond that they made on some field underneath blinding stadium lights and never be anything more. When it came to Michael and Jeremy, they were so close you'd think they were dating. Yes, they were _those_ friends. But it didn't matter how everyone saw the pair, because all that mattered to them was the fact that they had each other no matter what. They knew each other so well, they once tried convincing everyone they had a psychic bond back in middle school, and a few kids actually believed them. They could hardly be separated, and they liked it that way. This came in handy for situations similar to the one they were currently in. They found comfort in being close to each other, unlike most social situations they felt trapped in. They despised being around other people, but not being around each other. They were secure and could tell the other anything. They would do anything for one another and they both knew it.

...

Jeremy was practically clawing at his face, hyperventilating between pathetic, high-pitched cries. Michael had both of his hands around Jeremy's; one hand intertwining with Jeremy's, and the other covering both of their hands, thumb idly swiping back and forth over Jeremy's wrist. Michael said nothing. He knew not to, and he was fine with it. He didn't need to bring Jeremy in close to his side or attempt calming him down with his poorly chosen words of supposed comfort. Michael had learned from experience that sometimes all he need to be was another body in the room. As long as he was there, Jeremy felt better. Even though he didn't look it, it was healthier for Jeremy to actually let something out than keep everything in for who knows how much longer. 

Jeremy inhaled sharply as his face tensed up, his eyes squinting and his mouth sealed shut. He then leaned onto the blocky console closer to his friend and freed his hand from the other's grip. Michael took this as, _I want you to hold me_. So he did. Trying as best as he could to disregard the boundary between them, Michael wrapped an arm around Jeremy's shoulders and pulled him in. Jeremy rested his head onto Michael's chest and made an attempt to get his breathing back to normal. 

"I'm suh-sorry," Jeremy mumbled, softly heaving.

"You're okay."

"I'm 'n idiot."

"Jeremy." Michael placed his free hand onto Jeremy's cheek, wrapping it around a bit awkwardly. He stroked away the wet lines that went down Jeremy's face.

"I shouldn't have to keep doing this to you, I'm sorry," Jeremy's voice wavered, pitch gradually raising.

"You're okay," Michael restated.

Then there was a soft tightening in his chest- a gentle swell in his heart. Jeremy's head tucked beneath his own, and he looked so exhausted. He was defeated and desperate for something. If Michael could have his way, he'd set out on a treacherous journey just to find whatever Jeremy so desired. He hated seeing him like this. He despised that Jeremy had to go through this, but he didn't despise him _for_ it. Michael was far from despising Jeremy for anything. Michael wanted to simply banish all of Jeremy's worries and fears and insecurities and every element of his secret past that made the innocent blue-eyed boy ache. 

Something about Jeremy made Michael gravitate towards him. It was like an instinct. Michael only felt the urge to pull Jeremy closer and closer until he couldn't possibly do so. He felt something from within pulling himself closer to Jeremy. He felt his lips twitch. _No, dammit, no. Are you insane?_ Michael pressed his mouth firmly into a line and lifted his head back up to stare out the windshield. He heard a few short sniffs from Jeremy before he lifted himself off of Michael. Jeremy ran his hands down his face as he adjusted back into his own seat, letting out a few irritated groans.

"Good?"

Jeremy nodded, hands falling down at either side of him. His attention was at the dashboard. Michael only stared at Jeremy: his hair a mess, his eyes glossy, and his face red. He tore his gaze away from the other and unbuckled his seatbelt, an idea fresh in his head.

"Where're you going?" Jeremy finally spoke.

"I think you deserve a slushie break," Michael stated, already exiting the car.

Jeremy finally properly took in his surroundings. He didn't know why he was so surprised, but Michael had managed to pull over right outside of a 7-11. _God, it's like he knew where every single one of these things were._ Jeremy used all of his energy to allow a lopsided smile to appear on his face.

"The usual?" Michael asked. He gathered his car keys and his wallet while standing at the open door.

Jeremy only nodded. Michael shot back a jovial grin and turned to shut the door... but stopped.

"Hey, uh, go through my Spotify shit if you wanna," he said. "Find something you like." Then he was on his way.

With a slam of the door and a few paces, Jeremy took his focus off of Michael and looked down to Michael's abandoned phone, Radiohead paused on the screen. He picked it up and started sorting through Michael's playlists, as he had apparently created a _ton_. A couple were named after the time they were created ("the bops of '16"... "shit from that one october"... "all that jazz from '17") or by mood ("crying music lmao"... "shit that makes you go !!!!!!!!!"... "heart eyes motherfucker"). Others were categorized by genre or artist. _Damn._ Michael really _was_ serious about his music. Jeremy then scrolled by another playlist entitled, "recs for him."

Him who? Jeremy tapped on the playlist and scrolled through the songs. He only recognized a few things: The Killers (Michael had added Mr. Brightside to the playlist... likely a shitpost), Bob Marley, Weezer, I Fight Dragons (a since broken-up band that he and Michael listened to in middle school), and an old Panic! song. He vaguely remembered some of the other bands and artists on the playlist that Michael wouldn't stop gushing about: Khalid, Sorority Noise, Kevin Abstract, Gorillaz, and The Cure to name a few. 

Jeremy knew that Michael had desperately wanted him to listen to some different music, and maybe branch out from listening to Neon Trees (no pun intended) and Twenty One Pilots. He tapped on the first song that seemed interesting.

The Maine - Diet Soda Society.

\----

Michael swung open the car door.

"Dad, look, it's the good kush!" 

Jeremy opened up his eyes and sat back up. He had fully immersed himself in this damn song. He leaned over and took the cobalt blue slushie out of Michael's hand.

"This is the dollar store, how good can it be?" Jeremy smiled as he took a sip from the artificially flavored cup of ice. An excited hum left him as he quickly placed the slush into a cupholder, eyes lighting up. "Dude, I am _so_ sorry for not listening to your music before. This is _so fucking good!_ "

"Finishing my Vine references and complimenting my music?" Michael slid back into the driver's seat. "Someone's doing better."

Jeremy nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled. A smile appeared out of nowhere.

Michael looked down to his phone, taking a sip from his own slushie- bright red- and noticed the playlist.

"Huh," he breathed out. "So you, uh, like this playlist?"

"Mhmmm- well," Jeremy lit up, then looked guilty.

"You've had this one song on repeat haven't you?"

Jeremy snorted. "Am I that obvious or are you just psychic?"

"Maybe both!" Michael dramatically plastered a bewildered look on his face. Jeremy giggled and nudged him in the shoulder. "Hey," Michael took Jeremy's slushie out of its cupholder. "Cheers to drowning our emotional sorrows in sugary ice and pretentious music."

Jeremy took the cup from him and tapped the plastic lid against Michael's. "I'll drink to that," he laughed. They both took a long sip at their respective drinks, then almost simultaneously winced and pulled back from their straws.

" _Wooo!_ Double brain freeze, bitch!" Michael exclaimed, clearly yelling in attempt to cancel out the sudden ache.

Jeremy snickered and rubbed at his head. "Ahh, shit!" He looked over to Michael, who was holding up his finger and making some weird movement with his jaw.

"Wanna know a secret?" He paused. "Tongue up against the roof of your mouth." He moved his jaw around a bit more then hit Jeremy's arm, his way of telling Jeremy to try it out. He did so, and it felt a bit weird for a while before...

"No fucking way," Jeremy spoke to himself. The freeze was going away.

"Yuh-huh!"

"That's...That's really fucking weird, dude," he giggled. "I don't even wanna know where you learned that."

"What, like it's not common knowledge?"

"Don't think so."

"Hm," Michael shrugged. "Years of sev-elev experience, Jer."

They both idly sipped from their colorful cups, letting Diet Soda Society play one last time.

"Hey, Michael," Jeremy stated coolly. Michael then only hummed in response. "You said we _weren't_ gonna be late, right?"

Michael glanced at the digital clock at the top of his car radio and choked on his slushie, shoulders jolting forward.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_ " They had three minutes before sixth period.

While Michael was in the middle of having a heart attack, Jeremy silently laughed and watched the former scramble around for a bit before fully processing what he was doing. His slushie was haphazardly dunked into a cupholder that contained an old pair of broken earbuds and a couple straw wrappers, and he was looking around the tiny car with his hands held up, searching for something. He switched the car into reverse and took hold of the wheel frantically. Jeremy only looked on, smiling even with his eyes. The song transitioned.

Watsky - Tears to Diamonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo check me out on tumblr:
> 
> @theasexualfangirl
> 
> also... thank you for so much love on the last chapter!!!! i really didn't expect it and i love where this whole story is going. i'm not spoiling anything, but there is a bit of a twist at some point. hope you liked this chapter and... i have no fucking clue when the next one will be out. i kinda need to work on alarms (which you should also check out!!) bc it has more chapters than this... like a lot more. anyway thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> yo check me out on tumblr:
> 
> @theasexualfangirl


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